Month: October 1994

10/28/1994 (Halloween)

“I was working in the lab, late one night…”

Johnny “Prince Of” Darkness potted down the rest of the song and grabbed the request line. “Hello. K-Drac.”

“Hi there,” a low, female voice purred. “Is this Johnny Darkness?”

“You’re talking to the Prince,” the deejay said as he reached for a CD. “How can I help you?”

“It’s not you who can help me, you poor, doomed soul. I’ll be helping you before the clock strikes midnight.”

Johnny punched another blinking line. “Hello. K-Drac. May I help you?”

“Did you think you could get rid of me that easily?”

Johnny frowned and quickly hit another line. It was the same voice…but it couldn’t be…he had just hung up on her.

“K-Drac.”

“It’s no use…you can run, but you can’t hide.”

“Jesus,” he said, “you sound just like…”

“It is me, my dear, sweet, innocent fool.”

Johnny slammed the phone down and checked the clock. Ten-fifty-five. Halloween, Part 3 had just ended at the local theater. The whacked-out calls always began when the movie was over. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Only an hour left on his shift and he would become one of the ghouls himself, emceeing a costume contest at a local night club.

As the second-hand crossed the top of the hour, Johnny hit the station ID.

“This is Kay Dracula…KDRC, Muldavia, Indiana.”

When “Thriller” kicked in, he turned down the volume and reached for his tenth cup of coffee. He had been drinking since his shift began at seven, but it was all he could do to stay awake.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, the thoughts of the strange female on the consecutive phone calls nagging in the back of his brain. It should have been a warning signal. The last deejay that held the 7-midnight shift had disappeared the previous year…on Halloween night…but Johnny didn’t give it any thought when he got the gig. Night deejays were always disappearing, then popping up at another station somewhere else.

It took KDRC a long time to fill the slot. Word had it that the station was haunted…the man Johnny replaced wasn’t the first who had disappeared mysteriously. But Johnny didn’t care. He needed the money. Besides, he didn’t believe in ghosts.

When he opened his eyes, he instantly knew something was wrong. The entire room was dark. No illumination came from the ceiling or even the board. He sat up quickly. The air was chilly. He could feel a cold mist against his face.

“What’s going on?”

A voice behind him ran a chill up his spine. “I said you could run, but you couldn’t hide.”

Johnny wheeled around in his chair. Standing next to the door, her face lit by the single candle she held, was a beautiful woman. She seemed to be floating in mid-air, a flowing, white robe fell from her shoulders to the floor.

He started to rise, but she held up her hand. “Please don’t get up.”

He had no choice. From out of the darkness, strong, claw-like fingers clamped down on his wrists, mashing them against the chair. He jerked his head around, but could see nothing. Were others holding him or just unattached hands?

His breath caught in his throat. A steel vice crushed his chest. He fought to swallow. “Wha…what do you want?” he stammered.

She smiled. Radiant. A face like an angel’s. With a sultry, but chilling voice she said, “You, my dear boy.”

She stepped closer. The candle hung behind her, suspended in mid-air.

More claws grabbed his ankles and knees, spreading them apart.

She stepped closer between his legs, then reached out and caressed his hair. Smiling, she rubbed the back of her fingers against his cheek. “You’re such a handsome young man. Much prettier than the last one…and the one before that.”

Johnny’s heart beat in his ears. He was hypnotized by her beauty and her eyes. She stared right through him into his soul. She dropped down and placed her palms gently on his thights. She lay her head against his chest. He felt her body through the thin, sheer robe.

His mind raced, trying to find a solution to the puzzle he was a piece of. It was a nightmare, but he was wide awake.

“Relax,” she cooed as she stood up. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her shoulders shrugged and the robe dropped away. She was wearing nothing underneath. She sat on his lap, her lips brushed against his ear. “Trick or treat,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes again, swept away by uncontrollable emotions and the erotic sensation of her tongue swishing against the side of his neck. He felt himself spinning into a deep, bottomless void.

“Hey, idiot.”

Johnny snapped awake. Chuck Henry, the all night deejay, was standing over him, a wicked smile on his face.

“I thought you were doing some special Halloween programming by playing “Thriller” over-and-over for an hour, but I guess you just fell asleep.”

Johnny rubbed his eyes and stared at the clock. It was midnight.

“It worked, though,” Chuck rattled on, “the phones are ringing off the hook.”

Johnny got out of his chair without a word and staggered down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and splashed it against his face. After a few seconds, the fear that churned his stomach was barely a memory. He checked out his reflection and managed a crooked grin. “None the worse for the wear.”

He never noticed the two, tiny puncture wounds on his neck.

“Yo, Darkness!” Check’s voice stopped him as he was walking out the door. “You’ve got a caller on line one. She sounds hot.”

He hesitated only a moment before picking up the phone. The dream was almost forgotten. But the familiar voice brought it crashing back with a vengeance, freezing him with fear, yet exciting him at the same time.

“Happy Halloween.”

10/18/1994

I was born in Mississippi, in a little shack way out by the woods…everybody used to call me Patches…

Okay, so the “Patches” reference may be carrying it a bit too far. The fact is, I was born in Mississippi and raised on Country music. Unlike my contemporaries in the publishing field, my roots run deep. It’s harder to get any more Country than Columbia, Mississippi, a tiny town (population 5,000) in the southwestern part of the state. It wasn’t until I visited the big metropolis of Jackson that I realized I was a redneck. It didn’t take long after that realization to be proud of my neck.

My earliest dream was to be a Country music singing star. Unfortunately, unlike Rock & Roll, it is almost mandatory that to become a Country music singing star, one must be able to sing. Being a true redneck, I didn’t let this “small” default slow me down. Besides, I was surrounded by the best in my quest. At one of my first studio sessions (at Malaco Recordings in Jackson), the arranger and drummer was another young “comer” named James Stroud. Fortunately for James, he produced and played better than I sang. I kept saying it was the microphone. James made me believe the cotton he was jamming in his ears was because of an infection.

After listening to the final product, I, as a true redneck, blamed the outcome on the studio and material. So I tried Muscle Shoals. My fellow Mississippian, Mac McAnally, wrote the song and with Mac on guitar, I recorded an aptly named tune, “Another Dry Run.”

It was.

With all my money gone, I returned to radio and plotted and waited. I saved my money and went to Nashville. Reality sometimes gets through, even to a redneck. So maybe I couldn’t sing, but I could damn well produce. I had a couple of acts (who “acted” like they could sing) and I acted like I could produce. With all due respect to David Allan Coe, I even wrote the perfect Country song entitled, “The Number One Song In The Country.” I figured if I could get just one station to play it, at least a few people would know I had written the number one song in the country. You get the picture?

Nobody else did.

I returned to my home state to become Chief of Staff for the Governor. While in this position, I spearheaded the establishment of the Mississippi Music Hall of Fame. The first inductee? Charlie Pride. I then ran for Congress. Some of Nashville’s most prominent music executives were kind enough to contribute to my effort, though I suspect most, like Bruce Hinton, did so more to keep me from returning to radio than to send me to Washington. The run for Congress was more like a walk. Although my campaign manager (Harry Nelson, now PD of WBCS Boston) and I toyed with the idea of hitching two mules up to a wagon and barnstorming the district, the idea was nixed by my daddy who said he had a reputation to maintain. (Editor’s note: Harry kept one of the mules and lives with it to this day!) Rusty Walker claims he voted for me, but after analyzing the tabulations, we could account for every vote within my immediate family…except one. I’m convinced my brother turned on me at the last second. I think it was the mules that got him.

So I returned to radio…programming KFRC San Francisco for five years…much to the dismay of Jack Lameier. Jack was the guy who had to scramble for concert tickets for me every time Willie Nelson played anywhere near northern California.

I said all that to say this: I’m back. First I tried singing Country music. Second, I tried producing Country music. Now, I’ll write about Country music…and I promise you, the third time will be the charm.

The Country Section in Network 40 is a personal dream come true for me. It is the culmination of much hard work and research by the entire staff of the magazine. With the publishing of the Country Section comes a commitment from Network 40…a commitment to produce a weekly publication that serves the Country radio and record industries.

Barry Freeman, VP/Country Editor, will be opening our Nashville offices in December. In the coming weeks, we will be announcing additions to our Country staff to make Network 40’s Country Section the very best in the business.

How do we indend on achieving our goal? By reflecting the interests and needs of Country radio and Country record companies. Unlike R&R, Network 40 wants to know what you want. We won’t tell you what’s best for us. Our intent is to make your jobs easier…not dictate policy that undermines your ability to maximize your efforts. Network 40 is successful because we work with the record and radio industries.

I don’t have the room and you don’t have the time to point out all the problems with R&R’s Country Section. (I used the word “section” liberally.) One of the most glaring errors is evident in R&R’s chart weighting. Forget, if you can, all the other problems R&R has, (you won’t have to forget very long…we’ll remind you) the chart is ridiculous. Country music needs a chart based on criteria determined by Country radio popularity and Country music sales…not a weighting system used by all other formats. Country music is unique. The charts should reflect that.

Network 40 commissioned two research projects to identify Country music influence and sales. Instead of using Arbitron’s ADE (Area of Dominant Influence), Network 40 will use our own ACE (Area of Country Dominance). A market will be weighted by how it generates Country music listeners and Country music sales, not by total population and total record sales.

Many have shared their thoughts with us over the past few months. Your continued insights are what will make the Network 40 Country Section a true reflection of the realities within Country radio and music. We are working with Country programmers and music executives to insure an accurate, representative chart. And unlike R&R, we won’t print it until we get it right.

I want to thank each of you who are working with us to create the “perfect” Country Section. And I want to personally thank Rusty Walker for kicking my butt to get it done quicker.

Network 40 is proud to be a partner with the format of today and tomorrow. And we’re proud to move into our house in Music City, U.S.A.

10/18/1994

There must be some misunderstanding. There must be some kind of mistake. I waited for the add on Tuesday…you were late.

In an industry where tensions between record companies and radio stations increase every week, there are definitely misunderstandings. Unfortunately, the chasms of misunderstanding, in to many cases, are turning into canyons. The symbiotic relationship that exists between the record and radio industries causes more strife and turmoil than any other.

Record companies depend on radio to expose their product and stimulate sales. Radio depends on record companies to provide the product that causes people to listen. Yet these two industries, which depend so much on each other, couldn’t be further apart in the objectives. The ties that bind are stretching to the breaking point and there seems to be little, if anything, that can be done about it. For both industries, the old maxim, “Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em,” is the most accurate description.

Misunderstandings exist on both sides of the coin. In most cases, rather than trying to understand the other, each side tries to “use” the other for its own benefit. Both industries spend much time and money on charities and causes that promote understanding, caring and togetherness. We should devote just as much time to those same propositions as they relate to our day-to-day operations and relationships.

This misunderstanding starts from the very beginning. The vast majority of those working at record companies originally seek their employment because they have a deep passion for music. It’s extremely difficult, if not downright impossible, to find a record company staffer who is not passionate about music. This passion is reinforced by their daily environment. Although record company employees spend a lot of time in meetings concerned with budgets, cost-effectiveness and waste control, their world spins around music.

Record promoters are excited even before a band is signed by the energy generated around the activity. A&R heads share their excitement about new bands they’re chasing. When a band is signed, the entire company is elated. Often, before a new group enters the studio, staffers hear the band live at showcases. They are involved in the entire projects.

As the band prepares a forthcoming release, promotion people hear bits and pieces and the excitement builds. Much time and effort is spent within the halls of each record company to generate more excitement as the project builds. A record’s success means success all the way down the line in a record company. Breaking a new artist is like winning the Super Bowl.

A successful act makes a record company. The record company makes more money. A lot of people make more money. Promotions are awarded. Everything is right with the world.

It’s just a bit different in radio.

Radio programmers usually begin at the same point as their record company counterparts. Most get into the business because they are passionate about music. However, that passion is dimmed quickly by radio reality.

Unlike those in the record business, programmers’ bosses aren’t driven by a passion for music. In over 20 years as a programmer, I never once had a general manager tell me how much he liked a record we were playing. Few of them are aware of the music. Most don’t care.

About the only time a general manager comments on music is after a meeting with a big client who complains about something his daughter was listening to when he took her to school.

Radio isn’t concerned with building an act. Radio isn’t concerned about a new artist. Radio isn’t moved by the excitement within a label.

Programmers are concerned with keeping their jobs. PDs are concerned with the next rend. They are concerned with positioning. So when passion meets positioning, what to you get? Pissed off. A bigger question is, how do we get past this hurdle? The answer isn’t easy. Hard work, more understanding and lot of tender, loving care.

Record companies must be more understanding of the plight of individual programmers. Record promoters must move past the high-pressure hype and auctioneer attitudes and work with PDs toward a common goal. Programmers must rediscover the passion that moved them to get into the business in the first place. Not, of course, at the expense of the ratings, but for the greater success that lies beyond. As more entertainment entities compete for the audience, unique programming abilities may be the only thing that separates one from the pack. Those abilities should include your proclivity for selecting music your audience wants to hear.

Record companies should involve programmers earlier in the life of an artist. Too often, the only thing a programmer knows is that the record is out and has to be added this week. And when a programmer does step out and play a record early  and the act winds upu being a huge hit, what does the PD get? Congratulations from his general manager? A raise? If he’s lucky, maybe a Gold record.

Record companies need to involve programmers at the beginning of projects…and at the end. How many artists visit programmers to say thanks? Few. How many record companies spend as much time and money saying thank you for a successful project as they do for the add?

PDs must be concerned with breaking new acts and new ground. The future of all formats lies in fresh artists and sounds. Playing it too safe may earn short-term gains, but it will spell the death of the format in the long run.

Those in Country Music have done this since the beginning. They involve programmers from the start and, in most cases, also involve the artists so a connection can be made. It makes the process more than a hyperkinetic Tuesday frenzy. The programmers become passionate about the music and careers of the artists involved.

If we all spend a little more time acknowledging that we’re in this thing together…and more effort in involving each other with our own problems and passions, perhaps both industries could begin working together toward a common goal.

Success for both.

10/14/1994

“It’s raining so hard…I wish it would rain all night. (Do-dah.) This is the time, I’d love to be holding you tight. (Do-do-de-de.)I guess I’ll have to accept…the fact that you are not here. (Do-do-diddley-do.) I wish this rain would hurry up and clear…my dear.”

Oh, baby, baby.

I wax poetic…with a reason, I guess…and you hope. I woke up this morning and it was raining. For those of you reading this Editorial, you’re probably saying, “What’s the big deal?” And it probably isn’t a big deal where you live. But here in the land of the instant sunshine, rain is a surprise to most, a blessing to some and a downright shock to others.

When it rains in Los Angeles, drivers go completely insane. Nobody here has a clue how to drive when the pavement is wet. Get real. It never rains in Southern California. (I wonder if I’ll hear that today?) The only thing that drips on our streets is blood. And we know how to drive through that…hit the gas, duck down in the seat and swerve from side-to-side to make a hard target.

No so water. Especially water mixed with the oil that has accumulated on the asphalt all summer. We average about one wreck per mile. It makes for a slow commute.

Which brings me to the convoluted point I was trying to make when I began. I think.

Relatability. As it relates to radio. More specifically, how it relates to how your audience relates to your station.

Did I lose you? Or can you relate?

I make this point because I’m one of the few people in Los Angeles who can drive in the rain while listening to the radio (at the same time chewing gum and maybe even making a mobile phone call). And while I was doing all those things on the way to work this morning (while singing the lyrics that began this muse), I noticed that not one deejay was relating to what I was having to relate to. Given the fact that Howard Stern is on satellite out of New York, I could understand why he wasn’t talking about the weather. But the rest of my favorite stations had no excuse.

In today’s programming world of computer-generated music lists, quarter-hour liner cards and force-fed slogans, most deejays have lost contact with their audience. Feel free to check me if I’m wrong, but if you lose contact with your audience, you’re in a world of trouble. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t expect the guy I’ve got tuned it to know I spilled coffee in my lap, but it is raining outside, fella, something that hasn’t happened in almost a year. The raid does affect my drive and the rest of my day. Am I asking too much that you at least acknowledge the fact? I know you’ve got to pimp that slogan and give away those concert tickets and read those stupid jokes you heard on last night’s Letterman show, but damn it, “Can’t You Feel The Rain?” I can.

In our haste to cut costs please the internal audience (managers and sales people for the most part) of the radio station, it is easy to lose focus on what we as programmers are paid to do: Increase the audience share. You often we paint broad strokes and forget about the fine brushes that make our radio station a favorite with the listeners.

In today’s radio world, it’s almost impossible to set yourself apart from your competition simply with the music mix. Unless you’re extremely lucky, or in a tiny market, you are competing directly with other stations in your format and indirectly with many that sample the same music mix.

One of the elements that can’t be duplicated by other stations in your market is your air talent. A good personality can rise above the mathematics of the format and edge your ratings higher. Of course, the converse is true…bad personalities can also tube it. So it is imperative that you take the time to make your deejays be more than automatons. They must relate. And to relate, they must cover the basics.

The simple things are the most obvious…the most important…and the most often overlooked.

Listening.

A program director must listen to the radio station. Not in the office. Not just on the way home…but the way the audience listens. A good programmer should take off one weekday each month and drive around the market with the radio playing loud. How can you expect the audience to listen to you don’t? How can you expect the audience to relate if you can’t? One day each month spent listening…and nothing else…can make a big difference.

But it shouldn’t stop there. The air staff should also be forced to listen. It’s not enough that a personality cuts to a traffic report. The deejay has to be able to relate to traffic problems…or weather problems…or whatever to make a connection with the audience. Every month, each deejay should spend his shift in the car driving to work…or driving home…or visiting the malls…or wherever the audience is when the deejay is usually on the air. The personality must know what his listeners are going through…not just guess or assume.

Time spent with your air talent, one-on-one, is also extremely important. Don’t expect them just to do their job. Demand it. Take the time to let them know what you want and explain it in a way they can understand.

In this business of communication, we too often fail to communicate with those who can make our station a success. Or maybe we don’t know how.

Lorna Ozmon of Ozmon Media is one of the industry’s leaders in developing talent. She’s developed techniques based on theater arts and psychology disciplines. She has seven keys that she considers important in coaching air personality development. Next week, in this column, you can share her ideas and maybe translate them to your staff in a way that could give you immediate results in the sound and relatability of your station.

I can’t listen them now, because I hear Slim Harpo singing, “Raining In My Heart” on the radio. I don’t know what station because I just can’t relate.

Maybe next week.